Full Moon Hike in Wissahickon Valley Park

I did a night hike under the super blue blood moon! On Wednesday, January 31, the Wissahickon Environmental Center hosted a full moon hike from 8-9:30 pm. It was really more like a walk than a hike, about 1 ½ miles at a leisurely pace, a little bit of uphill but not steep and overall mostly flat. We walked for about 45 minutes. We could have done a longer route, but our tour leaders opted for the shorter one as the evening temperature was 31 degrees. The relaxed pace made it easy to walk and gaze at the moon and to stop and grab pictures. There wouldn’t have been time to set up my tripod and get shots with my DSLR camera which is what really needed to be done, but a slight sense of community was forged in the collective attempt to get our iPhones to focus.

Philadelphia: the City of Ghostly Love

I was on my way to Philadelphia’s Triumph Brewing Company to meet with my boss, Joe Wojie of Grim Philly Twilight Tours, and Laurie Hull, a paranormal investigator from Tri County Paranormal. We were going to discuss and map out the route to our Halloween tour, a hands-on historical ghost hunt. I had been waiting at my South Philly bus stop for over 40 minutes, alone. An older man, tall and skeletal, inappropriately dressed for the sweltering summer day in a bright red sweatshirt and winter beanie, chain smoked across the street and stared at me through his large, eighties-style sunglasses. Definitely a serial killer. I work as a guide for Grim Philly’s walking tours which feature the darker, seedier side of the city’s history. I’m an expert now on colonial prostitution, mass graves, eighteenth century diseases and their macabre treatments, and yes, serial killers. It makes for nervous travel on public transit. Fortunately, it appeared he was only interested in watching me, not following me, so I boarded my bus and made it to Triumph without incident.

Hiking My Spectacular Home: Prowling the Sproul State Forest in PA

“There’s a view there, but I’m not too sure how good it will be.” View? I was all about the view. That was the reward for a difficult hike. That was the explanation I gave to my mother who could not understand “why anyone would want to walk up a mountain” – how else would I get to see wonderful vistas? How else could I stand in awe at my own puniness in the face of nature’s grandness? And this hike had promised three vistas, at least one of them spectacular. Spectacular! I was in for every single one. Our guide, Mike Eckley of The Nature Conservancy, said it was only one hundred yards up or so. Yes! I started up behind him, and the women who caught up to us at the end of the conversation followed along dutifully.

Well, they followed along dutifully, but not silently! I felt the slightest twinge of guilt as we fought our way through thick brush (following an almost invisible trail made, we decided, by a very thin deer who had leapt most of the way), uphill, in hundred degree heat. The low brambles wound around our legs, untying shoes, tripping us, and leaving a long scratch of blood from my knee to ankle. One hundred yards hadn’t sounded very far, but it was a football field after all, in less than ideal conditions. I almost ran into the woman in front of me who had stopped. We all looked at each other quizzically.

Ventura’s The Cliff House Inn: Close to LA but Worlds Away

We heard the surf pounding the rocks in front of us, though we couldn’t see the waves in the inky blackness. Far out on the water’s surface a flame flickered and glowered, illuminating the edges of a wooden pier. Festive white lights ran up and around the palm trees next to our table, and I read the menu by the dim light of the candle. It was too beautiful not to sit outside, though my dress-up skirt and cute jacket were obscured by layers of towels from the room and my fiance’s extra jacket, a navy blue workman’s number with Loctite written in bright yellow letters. We were staying at The Cliff House Inn and Shoals Restaurant, a locale more reminiscent of a weathered bungalow in Maine than a beachfront hotel off the 101 in Ventura.

Houdini Séance Evening: a Crazy, Kooky Way to Spend a Birthday

“Open sesame.” I asked the secret passageway through the bookcase to reveal itself. “Open sesame!” I commanded, an octave lower. Nothing. I looked at my friends, the ten of us pressed close together in the bustling hallway, but they were all there for the first time as well. I stomped my foot. “OPEN--” The creaky bookcase swung open, and we hurriedly followed the guide inside. For my fortieth birthday I had decided to celebrate with the Houdini Séance Evening at The Magic Castle in Los Angeles.

My boyfriend at the time had told me about The Magic Castle’s Houdini room. A magician friend of his who used to live in LA had given him a tour once, and apparently the room, filled with actual Houdini artifacts and memorabilia, could be reserved for dinner and a séance. A séance! What a crazy, creepy, kooky way to spend my fortieth birthday! Apparently Houdini himself had enjoyed séances, and one could be arranged along with a five-course meal in this private room. I had never been to The Magic Castle, a formal dinner club famous for its fabulous magic shows. Only members of the Academy of Magical Arts or their guests could get in, but the Houdini Séance Evening was actually open to the public without a member’s assistance.